Affairs of the Heart
by chamometre
Summary: Being a nanny isn't all easy as it's said to be especially when you're babysitting the two Arandelles and start to catch yourself having a crush on their dysfunctional older sister, Elsa. Elsanna
1. Chapter 1

Being a nanny isn't all it's easy as it's said to be. Apparently, babysitting a couple of teenagers is somehow supposed to be a big deal, a really huge deal. Honestly though, I don't see how can I change the lives of two teenagers when I barely have mine in order? It is impossible for me to feel like I'm even a bit useful, not when I can't even figure out the one thing that ever really matters, not when I keep on having doors slammed on my face everytime I try to have a conversation with them. No one expects me to feel sad about things like that, half of the people I know think my mind is consumed by unicorns and rainbows, while the other half thinks it's all law school and books. No one realized that what it is really consumed with, what it's always been consumed with

With all of the promises I made with Mr. Fredrik, all of the internship I am supposed to do, all of the books that I have to read and re-read until my mind goes so numb that they actually start to make sense, I hardly ever have time to do anything I want to do. I don't have time to travel like how I imagined my summer would be, don't have time to talk to my old friends and only have time to talk to the people who don't even want to talk to me unless they're hungover and want my help. The perfect example is sleeping somewhere among the four turrets of this manor. Even if she hasn't responded to any of my old text (they were attempts for me to be friends with her), here I am, trying to cook for her.

I don't know what she wants for breakfast, so I choose to scramble some eggs. Consuela, the cook, gives me an odd look when I reach for the pan but her curiosity stops there. She resumes cutting peppers, ignoring my presence like any other day. I suspect that Consuela has a big fat crush on Mr. Fredrik Arandelle, a divorced Nordic CEO who hires us and my young fine ass must be a threat to the cook.

"Ms. Arandelle is feeling unwell," I crack the eggs, hitting them against the counter cautiously, afraid that I would mess the tidy, clean surface. "Could you make her some soup for lunch?"

There is no answer, not even a nod or an eye roll but I know she will do as I say. Apparently every employee in this house, except for me, has been serving the Arandelle household for at least a decade and their loves for Mr. Fredrik's children are quite visible. "There's no need to worry though, I can take care of Els- I mean, Ms. Arandelle."

Standing outside of her bedroom, I wonder if I put too much salt into the scrambled eggs. What if Ms. Arandelle doesn't even like her scrambled eggs salted? I probably should've tasted the eggs first. But that's rude, isn't it? Is it though? Maybe if I run to the kitchen now, Ms. Arandelle won't notice and I can ask Consuela to make her some toast

Mr. Fredrik's children are very impossible to work with. Ms. Arandelle here is a Stanford graduate, socially-impaired but flawless heiress who makes grown women like me look like teenage boys. Then there's Kristoff, the troubled adolescent whose best friend is an imaginary reindeer while his younger sister, Rapunzel is throwing herself to guys at least five years older.

I turn the doorknob and step into the room before the air-conditioner assaults me with its freezing cold air. "Ugh-" a shaky groan escapes from between my clattering teeth.

I look around and notice the familiar thin figure lying under the sheet. Gently, I place the tray on the end table, moving the nightstand ever so slightly with hope that it won't wake her up. Last night, I came to the house as usual after another Sunday night spent at The Fjord, unlocking the front door with the keys Mr. Fredrik gave to me on our second meeting, drafting Rapunzel's activities for the week before Ms. Arandelle made a rather scary entrance into my room. She was in her usual white button-down, black skirt and suit but there was something critically unusual about her and we both knew.

Her long, blonde hair was tangled and would probably take her an hour to comb the knots out if she was lucky. Her usually rosy complexion looked sallow and dry, and there were dark, puffy circles under her blue eyes. Her lips were crusted with a deep ruby stain, which, to tell the truth, would make a really nice lipstick shade. I wondered if the people at Sephora could come up with a way to turn your lips into that color without involving alcohol poisoning.

I stared at Ms. Arandelle with an amused feeling when she came to ask me for help for the first time. Her voice was exhausted and soft, I could barely make out the words that she said. I brought her upstairs as she commanded me to, our steps were cautious and slow.

"_Wait." She stopped walking after climbing the fourth flight of stairs. _

_I obeyed the blonde, slowly releasing my supporting arm from her waist. With her remaining strength, she tried to shrug out of the suit and hesitantly, I assisted. My past encounters with her made it clear that she hates being helped by people and that she is impossibly egoistic but as I pulled her arms out of the sleeves, she stayed still, letting me helped her like I am paid to. I rested the suit on my shoulder, my arm secured around her waist once again and none of us spoke until I safely tuck her in bed._

"Anna?" my attention is drawn to the sleepy voice of Ms. Arandelle.

Abruptly, I lean in. "I'm here. Are you feeling better?" Her platinum blonde hair is messily covering her eyes the minute she moves her head on the pillow. I find myself tossing them away involuntarily before she winces and shrinks her head backward.

Feeling slightly revolted, I bit the inside of my cheek. "I'll be downstairs if you need me."

"Wait," she pants. "I've got this massive headache- and I was going to bath when I got dizzy and fell. I'm sick, Anna."

I feel guilty for some reason. For all of her flaws and the hurtful things that she has done, there is still a part of me that pities this - unbelievably pompous, cold-hearted, rude lady. "Let me help you up," I whisper and try to lift her up. After pondering for a few seconds, she rests her head on my shoulder and let me take her to the bathroom.

_I pulled the Bobbi Brown brush that has been holding my hair into a bun, and flop onto my back. Ms. Arandelle was now upstairs, still in her work attire. I offered to help her change but all I was given was the sight of her sleeping on her side, utterly ignoring me. I felt hurt, of course. I meant, I had been working here for two months now and that's almost sixty days of Elsa Arandelle ignoring me. I knew I'm just a nanny, possibly a very crappy one because Kristoff still preferred hanging out with his imaginary reindeer friend and I caught the thirteen years old Rapunzel making out with some jock probably older than her brother but couldn't she at least treat me like I'm human? _

_My phone started playing the chorus to Drake's new song and as much as I like Drake, tonight had been too tiring for me to even do my usual 'incoming text dance', as Hans called it. Blindly, I ran my hand on the table, unlocked the screen and lazily read the text. _

_It was Ms. Arandelle. _

_**Help. - Elsa A.**_

_I climbed the stairs again for the second time tonight. In my hand was an umbrella, in case there was an intruder. On a second thought, I should've probably took a knife from the kitchen instead. _

_Dramatically, I slammed the door open but there was no one there, except for Ms. Arandelle who was sitting at the edge of her bed with her cellphone in her hand. I lowered the umbrella, my breathing still heavy from all the running. "Why- why'd you send the text?" _

"_I need you to sleep with me." her voice calm. _

_I stared at the exhausted-looking blonde, my mouth slightly agape. "Care to rephrase that?" _

_She frowned for a moment before she opened her mouth again as if she just remembered something. "I mean, in the same bed." From where I stood, my eyes traced the pink that colored her cheeks. _

_Now, I was wondering if by 'take care of my kids', Mr. Fredrik actually meant, take care all of his kids, including the heiress of Arandelle Emporium who worth more than I would ever be. "Okay," was all I managed to say to the bizarre wish even though I was dying to know why was she asking me to do this._

_I swallowed nervously as Ms. Arandelle slipped beneath the covers. In the abstract, this might be a fantastic idea. Besides, Ms. Arandelle needed my help and that had never happened before today. _

"_Anna? Are you going to stand there all night?" she stared at me as if I was dumb. _

"_Sorry," I approached the bed, apprehension settling in my stomach. This might go bad and I might be embarrassing myself in front of her. What if I did something silly tonight? What if I suffocate her while we're both sleeping because I can't lie still? Still, Ms. Arandelle is looking at me expectantly, so I clamber awkwardly onto bed and set my head on the pillow. "Can I-"_

_Shit. Shouldn't have said that. But it was too late, she heard me._

"_What?" _

_I ignored the heavy thumping of my heart and hoped for the best. "Can I hold you? I mean, I know this sounds really awkward but I have this stuffed snowman called Olaf I always snuggle with at night and I always have trouble sleeping so basically-"_

"_You talk too much."_

_I took that as a yes from the lack of no in her sentence. I was desperate. My arm slung hesitantly over her waist and tugged the blonde against myself as soon as she lied on her side. Ms. Arandelle's surprisingly firm rear nested against my groin and I tried to ignore the growing sensation. _

"_Why are you doing this for me?" the familiar smell of pinot noir lingered in the air. She was drunk. _

_Slowly, she took my arm and hugged it against her chest and I couldn't help but to let out a relieved sigh when I figured that she still had her bra on. _

"_Well, your dad pays me and my college fees won't pay itself."_

"_You don't go to college, you're a nanny." _

_I rolled my eyes, stopping myself from choking her with my arm. This was the problem I have with . Ever since the first day I worked here, she had been looking down on me and still wouldn't believe that I go to law school. She was still mean even when she was drunk._

"_Do you want to sleep alone, Ms. Arandelle?"_

_She shook her head. "You smell nice."_

"_Ms. Arandelle."_

_But she had slipped beyond the realms of communication. Her lips brushed against my knuckle as she snoozed and I allowed a fierce blush when no one was around to see it. _

I turn on the shower as she waits beside me, with unfocused eyes and shaking lightly. "You can get in now. If you need my help, I'll be waiting outside." I already have my hand on the doorknob when I suddenly feel a cold hand on my shoulder. Turning around, I am greeted by her tired green eyes.

"Can you help me?" she says. "I believe I can't stand up and wash my body properly."

She stares at me for a moment with pleading eyes and I realize I have no choice. This time will be worse than having to sleep on the same bed with her. "How are we gonna do this? Would it be better if I fill the tub? A nice, warm bath for your headache?" Maybe that is less awkward.

"Although I hate being in a pool of my own filth, I believe your proposal make sense." she says with a frown, the headache must really hurt.

"OK then, I will prepare your bath." After filling the bath, putting some bath salts I found in the cabinet, I glance at her who is leaning against the counter and say, " Get in."

Noticing her discomfort as she unbuttons her shirt in front of me, I turn around and wait for her to get in the tub. Looking at the skirt lying on the ground, I feel the same tingly feeling I felt in my stomach when I woke up today with her nose brushed against the nape of my neck.

"Can you wash my back? I can take care of the rest myself." She is holding her knees against her chest. She sounds childlike, vulnerable, shy - almost scared.

I pick up the sponge and kneel on the floor, facing her back. Her messy golden locks are rested against the tub and I tie them up into a bun. She looks like an ethereal being, so lean and I can't help but to notice how pale her skin is. Like she was specially made by porcelain. At the first touch, she flinches. "You have to relax, Ms, Arandelle." She sighs softly and loosens up a little. I start slowly, washing her neck with gentle strokes and she shudders as soon as the sponge reaches her pale skin.

I dip the sponge into the tub, my eyes locked on the trail of freckles I now notice exist. Cautiously, I wipe her spine, pressing the sponge softly, water cascading down pale skin. I wonder where the freckles lead to and maybe if I just lean in closer, I can see … _What the fuck is going on?_ _This is Elsa Arandelle, the condescending, icy, arrogant, Elsa Arandelle. Anna, you have to get out of here. _

"Is something wrong?" she asks and thankfully, her head doesn't turn to witness my face turning redder than my hair.

"Nope. Uh-," I cough the moment I realize my voice comes out hoarser than usual. Am I aroused? Do I have a pale skin fetish? "So, where were you last night? I mean, what exactly happened? You were _so _drunk," I let out a nervous laugh and regret as soon as I hear it.

"I met some old friends."

Then it hits me. Probably she is normal. I keep on looking at her as this physically-flawless, emotionless, asexual creature who works for 80 hours a week but probably, underneath her Armani suit and shades, she might be a party animal for all I know. Last night's encounter proved my theory to be right. Then, the thought of her grinding against a stockbroker in a nightclub makes my head spin. I need to stop imagining everything that crosses my mind.

And as if she can sense my unholy imagination, she clears her throat and says coldly, "I think that's enough. You can see yourself out,"

"Do you want me to tuck you in? I can get you some aspirin and maybe tea?" I ask, still kneeling behind her.

She sighs in deeply and says, "I'm good."

"Alright, then. If you say so." Feeling a little hurt, I abandon the sponge on the floor and head for the door.

It takes three seconds later for me to hear a loud thump coming from the bathroom. As I rush back in, my scream is abated when I see her supporting herself with her two arms, towel wrapped around the slender frame and tiny bottles of things scattered on the floor. "Are you alright?"

Her face is red and her eyes are watery. She looks terribly weak and sick, I am worried. "I'm fine. It's just an accident."

Ms. Arandelle has always been stubborn and even when she looks like she just ran over a wall, she is still the stubborn Ms. Arandelle that I know. "Okay but it would make me feel better if I know that you're safe, lying on your bed. So, if we can just-" I place her arm over my shoulder, "- work together here. Come, let's get you in bed Ms Arandelle."

I sit her on the edge of her bed, take the first sweatpant and blue jumper I see from her wardrobe and tuck her under the sheet once I fake admiring the carvings on the ceiling as she settles into the clothes. "You've definitely got a fever," I conclude as soon as I feel the warmth radiating from her skin.

She leans back against the headboard, her head falling on her right slightly as she closes her eyes, shielding them against the bright sun. I consider closing the windows with the curtains, but seeing her trying to peek while her eyes are being assaulted by the sun is pretty adorable. "I need aspirin. And tea, too. With four sugars."


	2. Chapter 2

I am too old for this.

At 6.00 A.M., my alarm turns on and music blares, shattering the blissful morning quiet, reminding me that the day has started. Trying to sleep this week is hard enough, but trying to wake up after you forced yourself to sleep the night before is even worse. I dig around under the mass of pillows crammed against the dark green headboard, searching for the phone to snooze for another ten (maybe twenty) more minutes. Mercifully, my hand makes contact with the phone somewhere in the upper right-hand corner of my bed, and I tap the screen, silently begging for the room to fall silent. That is to say, as silent as a basement on Fifth Avenue can ever really be.

A lot of people dream about waking up in New York City, unless, of course,you are trying to sleep, in which case it is the place where very tired, cranky and hungover people go to die.

I begin to doze off again, when the damn radio turns on automatically. The first time it happened, I stared at the old radio on the end table, wondering if ghosts really existed but I stopped caring after the third time. I figured it must be getting old, since it starts playing song randomly.

I give myself the 'pep talk', the same speech I give myself every morning before heading out of my basement room and climbing the stairs to wake Kristoff up. Kristoff, unlike most sixteen year old teenage boys, is very complicated. He barely speaks or even responds to the people around him, let alone voluntarily interacts with people, which is why I'm responsible for making sure that he attends his therapy session today and the challenge starts from luring him out of his bedroom.

You can do it Anna. Maybe today is the day. Talking to myself has become a habit since I started working for the Arandelles. If this pace keeps up, say I fail law school and has to work for them until I'm thirty, I'll probably be certifiably insane.

I swing my legs out of the bed, my feet hitting the cool wood floor. I grab the hem of my sweater and pulls it over my head while my legs expertly make their ways out of my pants. I shuffle to the bathroom, appreciating the only time and place there is for me to be naked in the five-storeys house and stand in front of the mirror. I look much more haggard than I did after a freshmen night at NYLS except this time I am not hungover, just overly exhausted from lack of sleep. I can't tell what has changed, or what bothers my mind from falling asleep these days but I decide to blame it on Manhattan.

Why did I agree to spend my summer here anyway? Oh right, money.

I turn the pipe and wait for the hot steamy shower to blast my half-asleep body. After leaning against the shower wall for a minute now, I figure that there is really no water. "Great." I mutter to myself, glancing at the shower head.

_He had no wrinkles to prove that he was in his late forties, except for a crowd of people who admired him too much, it was impossible for him to keep his age a secret. Six feet tall and blonde, Mr. Fredrik was handsome and had a well-built frame. His straight posture and the way he leaned to take his cup of tea from the coffee table were the results of years of destined greatness and I began to understand how did he manage to create a powerful empire at such a young age._

_U"I'll be beyond grateful if you agree to look after my children." he repeated for the second time today and I smiled gratefully._

_"That's very kind of you to say but I really don't get it why you choose me. Like I said, I've only taken care of children half the age of yours and I'm not an actual nanny. It's just something that I do on my free time." I paused when the maid placed a plate on the table. Murmuring a 'thank you', Mr. Fredrik's attention returned to me._

_"Well, I believe in you Anna. A young, enthusiastic adult should be a better candidate than some nanny my age. Please, help yourself with the tea" I went over to reach for the cup before my legs started to shake involuntarily._

_I looked up to see Mr. Fredrik glancing at the newspaper and said, "Can I be excused for a second?"_

_Almost immediately, he looked at me with a smile. "Sure."_

_Abruptly, I headed out of the drawing room and hovered around the foyer. It was a huge house and finding a toilet was like trying to get out of a maze at the autumn festival. "Damn it." I breathed, my legs crossed, hoping that I could make it in time._

_I walked down a hallway and took a turn to the right when I collided with someone. Someone holding a cup of coffee. Hot._

_The dark liquid cascaded down my chest, and I let out a painful groan. I jumped back, my hips hitting the console table and pulled my dress shirt away from me. I brushed the hot stain on my abdomen, reaching for the box of tissue placed on the console table and blindly wiped the fabric. The growing pain made me hiss and I shut my eyes with hope that the pain would leave._

_I looked up to yell at whoever had ran into me and split coffee all over my shirt but my lips went numb, so numb I was scared I would never be able to speak again._

_Now and then, I'd seen and listened to people worshipping someone's beauty. How their passion seemed utterly irrational and shallow to my eyes. How poets spent nights and days writing poems about beautiful women, how songwriters described a girl's eyes in their songs like they were made of dime, shaped by angels and how young boys wrote letters for their first crushes, to tell her she looked pretty. I'd seen beautiful, I'd seen amazing and I'd seen pretty but I'd never seen someone so perfect, that if I used any word in the world, I felt like I would be understating her beauty._

_"Watch where you're going!" She yelled at me, the cup still in her hand._

_My power to speak came back rushing in me, and I sealed my lips, afraid if I speak, I'd embarrass myself._

_Gorgeous._

_Poised ._

_Stunning._

_Her skin, pale like the creamer I used to make coffees in the morning, milky but not sweet. Her cheeks, flushed, rosy like the color of my mug, warm like coffee. Her eyes, wide, green and bold. Golden hairs that flowed down into straight, silky locks that could make her stand out in a Sunday night at The Fjord. Her lips, pink, sweet and wide, they made me bite my own._

_"Yes," was all I managed to mumble at the moment. My brain was not functioning as my eyes were marvelling over the woman standing in front of me._

_"Great. A stuttering klutz. Who are you? New maid? Cook? Wait, you can't be a cook, you're too clumsy for that."She rolled her eyes in disappointment. "Speak, girlie. What is your name?"_

_She looked at me directly in the eyes, and I felt an alien feeling growing in my chest. It was admiration, fear, curiosity, aggravation all at once. My heart was clenching, my veins were dilated, letting blood rush through my body, crimson coloring my skin. I was confused and lost in my own words, questioning myself as to why I couldn't speak._

_"N-A-M-E?" she asked again, this time pronouncing each letter slowly, as if I was deaf._

_She wanted to know my name._

_"Anna." I murmured._

_"Well then, Anna." she said my name like she owned me. "Get out of my way."_

_And I moved, moved because I felt inferior of her, moved because I was still fascinated by her, moved because I was a coward when it came to Elsa Arandelle. how I hated the truth._

_"Oh Anna, are you alright?" I hadn't noticed but I'd walked right back into the drawing room and Mr. Fredrik stood up abruptly with a frown._

_He rushed to my side, calling for a maid to bring me towel. It was all blurry, until he seated me on a wing chair. Then my ears started to work again, all my senses were alive and started to notice everything else around me except for just Elsa Arandelle. "Did you drop coffee on yourself? Goodness Anna, you have to change. Gerda please get this young lady something from Elsa's wardrobe. I'm sure she's the size of my daughter." my head started to spin again at the sound of her name._

_Her father was so different from her, he was kind and caring of others, but Elsa was another case. She was cold, ice cold and yet there was something about her that warmed me. "I had an accident, it's fine."_

_"An accident? What kind of accident?" he asked, worried as he allowed Gerda to leave us alone and fetch me something to wear._

_I looked at the man standing in front of me, then his expression changed and he opened his mouth, "Was this the work of my children? Was it Rapunzel? I'm sorry for that. I hope you haven't changed your mind about working here."_

_"How can I?" I chuckled, gracing a smile on my lips and by then, Mr. Fredrik was looking at me as if I was a lunatic. Maybe I was. "It wasn't because of your two children. It was your eldest."_

I yank the towel from the railing, wrapping it securely under my arms. One of the perks of having to wake up two hours earlier than everyone else in the house is that no one else is up when you're up. So that means that if I head upstairs and shower in the bathroom in the kitchen, no one will be there to notice.

I tiptoe up the stairs, passing the study room on the first floor and sneak into the bathroom. I place my towel neatly on the railing, get into the bathtub and pull the shower curtain before I hear someone turning the doorknob. My gut is telling me to be quiet. Leaning against the wall, I look over at the shower curtain, my breath abated. Getting seen naked by anyone in this house isn't one of the things I wish to do before summer is over. I close my eyes, start to count to a hundred and hope the person will leave.

_Six. Seven. Eight._

The second I hear the sink being turned on and water running from it, I know it is going to be a long wait.

_Twelve. Thirteen._

A sudden horror takes over when I hear a sneeze coming from the unwelcomed intruder. Almost instinctively, my heartbeat paces and I try to stop myself from _slipping on the tub as soon as I realize who it really is. It is Elsa. I am in a bathroom with Elsa Arandelle._

_Fifteen. Sixteen. Fifteen. Please leave._

I try to shield my pupils from the suddenly blinding light, blinking until the blue dots disappear and my head is getting dizzy. I wonder if lack of sleep and chugging cups of coffees to stay awake in the morning are finally killing me.

_Fifteen. Fif-_

"Even a deaf person can tell you're hiding behind the shower curtain if you're that loud, Anna." Elsa tells me and I mentally curse myself for not being able to stay quiet.

Sneaking behind the curtain, I pop my head and smile at Elsa through her reflection on the mirror. "Can you, um, please get me my towel?"

After Elsa's blunt comment on the scrambled eggs I made for her three days ago, of course like any honorable lady would do, I ask her if she wants me to make her breakfast after our encounter in the bathroom and surprisingly she says yes. So, I run on full speed down the stairs towards my basement bedroom, wear the baseball top that has been laying on my nightstand for two days and brush my teeth before I head back upstairs. "Ms Arandelle?" I call from the hallway, tying my hair into a bun as I secure it.

I'm not answered by words, but by the clanking of pots and pans. "Ms Arandelle?" I peek from the archway to the kitchen to see her there, not sitting on the stool but standing over the griddle. Her pajamas' sleeves are rolled up to her elbows as she stands, hands on her hips, watching as the hot surface sizzles. "What are you doing?" I ask, tucking a stubborn strand of hair behind my ear and leaning against the counter. "I thought I was going to make you breakfast. Don't you have to be at work early?"

Without looking at me, she motions to the twin bar stools that overlook the counter she is working on. "You ask too many questions, Anna. Sit." Elsa says, finally glancing at me. Her grin is brief as she turns her attention back to the griddle.

"Why are you the one cooking? I'm supposed to cook for you not the other way around." I ask, clearly suspicious of her action.

Since when does Elsa Arandelle make breakfast? Most importantly, since when does she do anything for anyone?

"I strongly wish you will stop asking questions."

"Do you need any help? I can crack some eggs or help you with the cooking or anything. Do you need help with the griddle?" I say, hands on my hips. Elsa shakes her head, peeking up at me only for a brief moment.

"You think I can't cook." she whispers, fiddling with the temperature knob.

"What? Psh, no. I just - it's just, weird seeing you cook for me. I mean, I've never seen your father cooks for Gerda."

_Liar._

_Admit it that you're scared Elsa's going to burn down the kitchen._

"I'm returning your favor. You helped me when I was sick and this is just my way of returning your favor."

That should make more sense. Elsa Arandelle can never owe someone anything so she's doing this to feed her ego. As difficult as it is, I stop bothering her so I settle on one of the stools, leaning over the bar to better discern what she might be cooking. There is a layer of butter simmering on the griddle, a bowl of batter next to it and a measuring cup in the sink.

"Oh no," I say, leaning away as soon as I figure out what Elsa is cooking.

"What?" she asks, not raising her head to look at me.

"Are you making pancakes?"

"Yes." she says.

"I don't like pancakes," I admit before I can stop myself.

"You will like these," she says, brightening a bit at the challenge. "It's an original recipe. Banana with scratch-made candied apple and maple butter."

"I don't .. do.. pancakes." I try my best to sound resolute and not ungrateful.

"Because you haven't tasted a good one." she says, spooning batter onto the sizzling griddle and then immediately stepping back to admire her work. "A person needs a strong cup of coffee, just bitter enough to cut the sweetness from the pancakes. And the newspaper. Something about the smell of newsprint is, in my opinion, key to the whole experience." She gestures grandly but delicately, like she is conducting an orchestra, squinting as she looks off, trying to find the right words.

For all of my frustration with her, I'm sensing that there is something more at play this time. Elsa's eyes are alive, dancing for the first time since we've met. In the time I have been living in this manor, Elsa has never cooked for me, not that I expect her to anyway. Generally Elsa would be downstairs for breakfast before work and she would complete her day by making insulting critics on me or acting like I don't even exist - at all. But then again, that's just how the Arandelles are to each other.

"You're acting weird." I kick my slippers off under the bar and slide the paper toward myself, rustling aimlessly through the pages. "Not that I'm complaining but you seem.. happy." I can't believe July is almost over.

She doesn't flinch from her task, flipping the pancakes on the griddle, percolating coffee in an angular metal pot and fussing with the apples caramelizing on the stove. "She requested these every year on her birthday," Elsa starts.

I look up from the paper. "Who?"

"Mother. Usually it would be so hot outside by a July evening that she didn't want to risk heating the whole house from cooking, so father would bring us out for dinner. But I always insisted on cooking for her; she knew how much I loved it. So before the day got too hot, I would make her these pancakes. I have continued doing this every year. Because not only do I find myself missing her, but I find myself missing the pancakes."

I find myself well up with tears, watching her closely as she sneaks a glance at me. She does not look sad; she looks contemplative but strangely energized in a way I've never seen. I can picture vividly in my mind Elsa as a young girl, a pure soul too innocent to hate. I reach across the bar, extending my hands toward her. I beckon her to hold them, curling my fingers.

Elsa notices my hands there after stirring the candied apples on the stove. Her hands are soft, gentle, grasping mine casually and my heart starts to beat frantically at the brief touch.

Smiling softly, Elsa lets go off my hand, clearly unaware of the warmth that's building in me. With her cold touch gone, it suddenly feels extremely incomplete, lonely. Elsa bends forward, her top dipping dangerously low, as she concentrates on her cooking. I have to forcibly look away, guilty and distraught as Elsa unconsciously flashes her feminine curves. The sizzling of the griddle draws me out of it, swallowing down all the inappropriate images that are on a continuous loop, playing out on the backs of my eyelids. Traitorous imagination. I'm going to stab my brain with a spatula.

"Thank you for cooking," I manage to say, swallowing the ungodly images of Elsa.

"Now watch the master work." She spreads maple butter over two plates stacked with her fluffy pancakes, and I try to get past the texture to which I had never been partial though I have to admit the butter was enticing.

Elsa takes the pan of candied apples off the stove and sprinkles them over the top, then pours two cups of coffee out of a strange little metal pot. She sets out cream and sugar and then presents her breakfast to me. She looks eager as she rounds the bar, sitting beside me on a stool.

I am keenly aware that Elsa is watching me as I pick up my fork and knife. I smile over at her and she motions toward my plate, clearly anticipating my reaction.

I sigh, giving in as I see the sight of Elsa looking at me expectantly. Her blue eyes are wide, glimmering with what seems like excitement. Seeing Elsa in her pajamas, blonde hair messily tied into a ponytail, I feel a tingly feeling in my stomach, causing me to look away. Cutting into the short, pillowy stack, I take a bite. It is unlike anything I have ever tasted – almost like cake. I can taste vanilla, cinnamon, nutmeg… just sweet enough to wake my taste buds but not cloyingly so. I close my eyes as I appreciate the warmth, the flavors… it is divine. I hate to admit that Elsa is right, but it is easy to look over into her eyes and smile.

"Wow .. this is amazing," I say, reaching for my coffee.

Elsa smiles weakly when she sees me wiping the dripping candied apples from my mouth with the back of my hand. She is smiling more than I'm used to today. She nods in satisfaction as I take my turn watching her takes a bite of her masterpiece. I feel all at once grateful for such a privilege to witness Elsa looks so happy, so content even though I'm not sure myself if I will be given a second chance to witness this again.

As the morning rain drives against the skylight in the kitchen, I drag my bar stool closer to her and stir in just enough cream to lighten the coffee. I watch the creamer dissolve into Elsa's coffee, turning the liquid from black to a rich brown and I place a spoonful of sugar in the coffee as I mix it all together.

"That's how you like it, right Elsa?" I ask, remembering her morning coffee order to Consuela.

As if I've said something wrong, Elsa looks up, our eyes locked and that is when we both realize it- we are sitting too close and it seems like neither of us mind the small gap. From where I sit, my eyes trace the concern building across her face and how her skin starts to tense. Then my fingers start to itch, begging me to touch her face, her cheek, smoothly drawing my hand along her jaw. Before, the way our eyes lock, could've been at best, platonic. But my mind starts to spin as soon as I realize how warm and nice this feels. It feels almost intimate - most definitely intimate. Friends don't look at each other this way now, do they?

The first time I met Elsa, she took my breath away, like the beautiful culprit that she was. I grew fond of her but my affection didn't last for too long as I woke up every morning in the basement and realized that her soul wasn't as pure as how she looked like. I thought she was an evil angel, if they even exist in the first place. But the night she came home drunk and desperate for my help, it felt like she hadn't done anything wrong to me. It felt like we met for the first time again except at that time, she noticed me see her looked so flawed, so human, brought me to another degree of admiration for Elsa. Then, the pancakes, Elsa letting me see a side of her I've never imagined existed.

I advance forward, noticing how her gaze slowly falls from my eyes towards my lips. She parts her own lips, cold breath brushing against my heated skin softly and in my mind, this seems like a forbidden scene playing in front of my own eyes. Like ice and fire, Elsa and I should never happen, will never be together. We should never touch. She is a cold soul, but if this is wrong, why does it feel so right? If her icy soul kills, why do I feel so alive? I ignore the flutter in my stomach, the beating of my heart that beats faster than the wings of a hummingbird and hold my breath. We are so near, I can smell the vanilla and cinnamon in her breath, my lips involuntarily part themselves, craving for the soft touch of her lips.

Before I know it, Elsa stands up abruptly, leaving me gasping for air as soon as I realize I haven't been breathing for awhile now. "Elsa?" I breath, raising my chin to look at her flustered face - there is fear in her eyes and I wonder why.

"Elsa?" I call her again but this time she looks at me straight in the eyes. "Idiot"

"Excuse me?"

"Wake up idiot."

Why'd Elsa ask me to wake up when I'm already up?

I feel soft slaps on my cheek before the sight of Rapunzel hovers above me. How did she even get into my room?

"What is wrong with you? Wake the hell up! I need to go to the party!" Rapunzel screams, causing me to sit up straight on my bed.

I rub my eyes with a grunt, unbelieving that it was just a dream. "What party?" I ask the angry looking Rapunzel.

"My friend's party? It is 9 am! Why are you so idiotic? Get up and send me there because Elsa doesn't want to! Ugh Elsa, what are you even doing here, Get out!"

At that, my eyes are wide open in horror. I sit a little straighter before I notice Elsa leaning against the door of my room. Suddenly, I remember the pants that has been lying on the floor for a day now and my bras that I hang on the wall. Tell me this is a dream too.

I shuffle out of the bed and try not to trip over my blanket. Rapunzel is gone. She marched out of my room a few seconds ago angrily. Then my head starts to hurt at the thought of the dream. Elsa can't possibly know that I dreamt of her now, can she?

"I came to tell you that I can't send my sister to the party and that I want to say thank you for taking care of me when I was hungover and sick." Elsa starts, her hands crossed on her chest.

I play with the hem of my shirt to distract myself from stuttering. "Sure, it's no problem."

Elsa nods twice before she seems like she is about to leave. "Elsa," I call for her.

She pauses, initiating that she is waiting for me to speak. "How long were you in my room?"

Elsa tilts her head slightly, obviously wondering why I'm asking such question so I feel a little relieved. "No, that was a silly question. I better get ready so I can send Rapunzel to-"

"Long enough to know that you were calling my name in your sleep." she cuts before I can finish my sentence.

Then my whole room feels cold and my stomach doesn't feel so right. She heard me calling her name in my sleep. Crap.

"I'm so sorry," I apologize not knowing what I am apologizing for.

Then Elsa smirks, looking at the floor with her hands crossed across her chest. "Well, I've always thought that you were fucking weird. Put on some pants, girlie."


	3. Chapter 3

I didn't wake up this morning and wished for the death of me, but from how things are right now, it sure seems like I did. I if knew Elsa Arandelle would walk through those glass doors and alert every other living souls in here of her presence from the clicking sound of her heels, I would certainly not cover Belle's shift today. The best part about this is that inside this little cafe, every pair of eyes are on her but in their defense, Elsa can stand out wherever she is. I remember the first time I saw her walked into the hall where the Arandelles had guests over and Mr Fredrik insisted on me joining them for the evening. The way her face lit up when she was chatting with the guests, the way her mouth graced into a warm smile as it did for the entire night – it made my heart fluttered just a little faster, made me unable to keep a firm grip on the wine glass. Although those friendly gestures or warm smiles weren't meant for me, I couldn't help but to smile myself that evening, hoping one day, I can get that kind of attention from Elsa.

A girl can dream though, can't she?

"So I had no idea you worked her," she leans against the counter, body angled in my direction as I work my way around the coffee machine, rocking back and forth nervously on my heels as I wait for the water to heat. It has been particularly chilly and Belle has explained before she leaves that they have been having troubles with the pipes. Darn it, can't this thing heat any faster?

"Are you sure you won't tell Mr Fredrik about this? I swear this isn't permanent. I'm just covering for a friend." I steal a glance her way, my neck warming as I see that she is still looking at me.

Elsa is completely oblivious to the gazes the other baristas on shift are giving her- or the stares of other male patrons from their tables behind her. It is still only early morning, and a Sunday no less – yet the place has already starting to fill up. Though I just started covering Belle's shift an hour ago, I already serve more customers than I used to before this. Well, I've covered for Belle for a few times now. Belle is just the kind of girl who will never miss a chance to go on a Tinder date. She says brunch date is the best way to avoid getting killed by her date, in case he's a serial killer.

"I leave that to Father to find out about your second job." she smirks, and the sight nearly makes me drop the takeaway cup I just picked up off the stack.

"Thanks."

"Well then I'm afraid I just found my new go-to coffee shop. It's nice to see you in something other than your sweatpants and Crocs," she laughs, and I manage to roll my eyes when I have my back facing her.

Elsa can't seem to say anything nice to me without saying something mean afterwards.

"I didn't know you were obsessed with me." The words rush out before I can stop them. "It's pretty obsessed if you actually noticed the pants I was wearing."

At that her laughter dies, a strange look washing over her expression. Her eyes narrow from behind her glasses- the ones that she only wears at night or on weekends, mouth turning down just slightly to form a grimace of sorts, a single brow lifting as she stares. A moment later though and it is gone, replaced by a foreign smirk that I don't think I've seen before. Wondering if I say something wrong, I decide to do things quickly. This conversation with her is making me feel uneasy. Carefully, I fill her cup and give it a quick stir through, before securing the lid tightly. I lift it up and over on to the counter, her hand reaching out to take the coffee before I can place it down. At the slight brush of our fingertips, my initial reaction would have been to flinch away but I simply let her fingers slip over my own, clamping down firmly round the takeaway cardboard, before pulling away, leaving my hand to dangle mid-air awkwardly for the next half second before I recover, arm dropping limp to my side.

"See you at home." I manage to say, fist clenching and she nods.

"Whatever."

I groan as I pull up at Mary's. Elsa explicitly tells me that she wants be to buy her coffee and donuts. Since our last encounter at this coffee shop, Elsa has been treating me far worse than before. It's as if I did or said something wrong to her. Whatever it is, I regret it. There's nothing worse than being a nanny to two teenagers and also babysitting their older sister who is acting like a jerk. Heaving a sigh, I march towards the front door. Pulling it open, I almost jump as the bell above the door jingles out my arrival. I decide to stalk forward and offer a small smile to Belle.

"Elsa's usual order?" the waitress asks, her eyebrow quirks slightly.

"Yeah, but can you add a hot cocoa to that order? I'm pretty sure that I'm going to need the extra sugar today."

Belle nods, before disappearing to the kitchen. I pull myself up onto one of the bar stools while I wait. Tapping my fingers against the counter, I let my mind drift off. After what feels like only a few minutes, I feel someone tap me on the shoulder, swiveling my head around, I smile weakly at Belle.

"Maybe you should just call in sick today, Anna. You look absolutely exhausted."

I shrug, wondering if I can actually call in sick. "I'm alright up and ready. Besides, once I get this hot chocolate in my system, I'll be fine." I reach back into my back pocket and pull out some cash and lay some down on the counter. "Thanks, Belle."

"Anytime. Don't let the blonde freak work you too hard." She says, half shouting.

"You better enjoy these donuts, Elsa." I mumble as I try to situate the box of donuts and the carrier of hot drinks in my arms. _

I nudge the glass door open with my hip. I walk pass by the cubicles, across the colossal working area on the twentieth floor of the Arandelle building. The first time I had to walk across this place, I had over fifty pairs of eyes eyeing me from head to toe, probably wondering if I'm some kind of a new intern who had been asked to buy coffee and donuts for the big boss but no, I'm just a nanny getting bullied by their boss. "Is she in the office?" I ask her secretary whom I have bonded over considering the fact that I've been bringing a box of donuts over on 7:00 am every day since last week.

"Yup. Anna, remind me, what's your job again?" she asks, raising a brow.

"I don't know anymore." I tap my elbow against the glass door four times before I have given up in a huff and shove the door open as best as I can. Anger clouded my vision for a moment, figuring that I will find Elsa sitting behind her desk, working on her computer like usual, or reading through files.

Typically, I at least have have the respect for her to at least give a curtsy knock before barging in. Today though, respect is beneath me. I stop dead in my tracks, my eyebrows pulling up in confusion. "What are you doing?" I ask, with the box and tray still in my arms.

"This?" she swirls her chair, curving an evil smile as she holds the cup of coffee in the air. "Just enjoying my morning coffee."

My anger is starting to boil up so I choose to breath and place the donuts and her coffee on her desk. "Why did you make me buy these when you clearly managed to get yourself coffee without my help?"

Elsa places the cup in her hand on the desk, smiling ever so slightly. "I think you're done here. Why don't you go home where you're needed most?" She says before turning her chair around and have her back facing me.

"It is hot outside and I'm not feeling very well. You made me buy these – these donuts for you everyday when I'm not even paid to work for you." I let out a huff, holding my fist against my thigh.

"I don't even know what I did wrong, just stop treating me like shit." At that, she laughs before standing up and running her hands down the suit.

"So you want me to pay you? For buying these donuts?" she raises her brow, taking small steps towards me before she sits on the edge of her desk.

"I didn't mean it in that way, I just-" I pause when she curves her lips, that smug smile, I hate it.

"You what?" she stands up, closing the distance between us. Much to my own surprise, Elsa looks very tall now when she's wearing those heels.

Breathing starts to fail me, so I take a step back to get some air. Suddenly my head feels heavy at the sight of Elsa standing too close to me. "I just wish – you would-," forming complete sentences seems to be hard so I lower my back on one of the chairs.

"Anna?" I can hear Elsa calling my name but my head feels too heavy. All that I feel like doing now is curl up on this chair.

"Are you okay?" her voice sounds muffled.

Softly, I feel her nudging my arm. I grunt, before turning my head away from her. I so badly want to let out my anger on Elsa but my head hurts too much. "You're sick, Anna." Elsa decides.

"Come, let's get you home. You're not doing me any good being all sick and you're definitely not doing yourself any good. You need to rest, Anna."

I shake my head, my fingers pressed to my temples. "I'm not sick," I plead through dazed eyes.

"Okay, if you're not sick, then stand up." I stare at her, a scowl on my face. I know that I can't be able to appease her, because I know that if I do what she asks, it will cause the throbbing in my temples to worsen. That still doesn't mean I'm sick. I just have a headache.. possibly a sore throat. It is a no big deal really. Even if i do feel like someone just ran over me numerous times, I will never admit that out-loud, especially with Elsa. She still will not treat me seriously. I haven't even told her what is on my mind yet.

"Sometimes today girlie, some of us actually have work to do."

I attempt to answer, but end up groaning instead. I won't admit it but my stomach is rolling uncomfortably. I try to think quickly through the fog that clouded my mind. I am definitely going to throw up, but I really don't want Elsa to see that. Then again, I am fairly certain that I won't make it to the bathroom.

It's as if Elsa can see the look on my face, she bends down and grabs the trash can and shoves it under my chin as I retch into it. I gag a few added times, before leaning back in the chair. She can probably see the thin sheen of sweat on my brow and how the pallor of my skin turns paler.

"Anna," she calls, as my eyes start to droop close. My eyes snap open as I gaze at her dazedly. "I'm going to take you home. You have to get home and I don't relish the thought of having you go home by yourself. Not when you're this sick."

When all I can respond is by merely stare at the blonde, she sighs. She makes sure that I have a decent grip on the trash can which truth be told, I really need it at the moment. This is going to be a long day.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

My mother is the reason I'm hooked with fairy tales. After father left, mom and I got hooked on Disney movies, the ones adapted from darker, creepier fairy tales. In the Disney version, the Little Mermaid doesn't commit suicide and become foam – she winds up having a gorgeous wedding on a boat and sails away forever with her prince. The original Cinderella had stepsisters slicing off parts of their feet to try to fit into the glass slipper. My mother and I needed the whitewash that Disney provided. We'd sit with a big bowl of popcorn, wrapped together in a queen-size blanket, and would escape to a place where magic was ours for the taking, where men rescued the people they loved, instead of abandoning them. A place where, no matter how bad things looked at the moment, there would always be a happy ending.

It's silly, I know, but I sort of imagined my mother as Disney Cinderella. She cleaned houses all day long and then came home and helped me with my schoolwork or cooked dinner or did our laundry. When I was younger, every time the doorbell rang and a UPS truck driver or the mailman or the pizza delivery guy was standing on the other side, I'd wonder if this was the prince who'd sweep her off her feet and give her a completely different life.

It never happened.

I don't think often about my father. He lives in Brooklyn now with his new wife and a daughter, who looks like a little princess, with red curls and baby blue eyes. Mum once told me my half-sister looks a lot like me. It's as if he started his own fairy tale without me in it. Although my mother swears I had nothing to do with my father leaving, I have my doubts. I wonder if I wasn't smart enough, pretty enough, just.. enough to be the daughter he wanted.

Once or twice a year, though, I dream about him. It's always the same dream, where he's teaching me to ice-skate. He's holding on to my outstretched hands, skating backward in front of me so I can balance. You've got it, Ann, he says, because that's what he always called me. He lets go off my hands, and to my surprise, I don't fall. I just glide forward, one foot in front of the other, as if I'm flying. Look, I cry out, I'm doing it! But when I look up, he's gone; I'm all by myself in the freezing cold.

When I have this dream, I always wake up shivering, and lonely.

This time, when it happens, through my blurry vision, I manage to see the sun blazing in through the window. I quickly make out the figure standing next to me, it's Elsa. "You're awake," she points out before putting the cell phone in her hand away.

I ignore the sight of Elsa and turn my head around."And dying," I groan when my stomach feels like someone is tearing it from the inside.

I quickly recognize the scent of lemon freshener that I have in my bedroom and the soft furry blanket underneath my legs. I must have blacked out in her office and somehow she brought me home. "You're not gonna die on my watch. That's way too scandalous. A nanny dead after being nicely asked to get her employer some donuts? Not on my watch."

I want to laugh but laughing won't do much good for my hurting throat. I shouldn't have had the third glass of iced water last night. "Just go to work. Gerda can take care of me."

"Anna, rest. Sleep. Whatever. You're sick," from my peripheral vision, I can see Elsa rolling her blue eyes.

I feel like laughing at Elsa right now. She looks far more miserable than I am. To be frank, she looks worried. Not worried because I'm sick, worried because she has no idea how to take care of a sick person. And like she said, she won't let me die on her watch, whatever that means. It might be because I took care of her when she was sick but that still doesn't mean she has to return the favor, at least in my opinion. But it's Elsa Arandelle, I doubt she has lived a day peacefully with the knowledge that she owes someone anything. "The thermometer and medicine are in the bathroom." I tell her softly, trying to ignore the throbbing pain I currently have in my temples.

Rolling her eyes, Elsa wonders off to locate the bathroom a few feet away from my bed. After she disappears into the bathroom, I start to believe that Elsa can take care of the rest herself so I allow my eyes to rest before I hear Elsa yells victorious in the bathroom. At that, my eyes open in surprise. It's going to be hard to rest when the one taking care of you is Elsa Arandelle, I guess.

"Good job, you found them. Bring them to me now, will you? Before I die?" I sound much more sarcastic than I intend to. I suppose sarcasm is a symptom of being sick.

Elsa walks out of the bathroom with a thermometer and a bottle of aspirin in her hands. Walking back towards the bed where I'm lying on, Elsa takes a sit on the chair I've always had beside my bed. I use it to put on dirty clothes but luckily yesterday Gerda came into my room to do my laundry.

After a few moments of watching Elsa trying to figure out the meds and thermometer, she finally asks me to sit. "Anna, can you sit?"

I groan at the thought of having to sit, not with my head aching. "A little help, please?"

With Elsa's help, I manage to rise back into a sitting position. "Open your mouth," Elsa instructs.

Through bleary eyes, I stare at Elsa, but do as she instructs. She places the thermometer under my tongue, and waits while I close my mouth around the thermometer. While waiting for the thermometer to beep, Elsa walks out of the room and returns with a drinking glass. She has filled it with water and returns to my side. I'm surprised it didn't take her long to get water by herself. As soon as she sits the glass down on the end table, the thermometer beeps loudly. My hand sluggishly makes a move for the thermometer but Elsa merely slaps my hand away before removing it from my mouth herself. "Um, that was unnecessary." I say but Elsa remains quiet.

Sighing, Elsa shakes her head. "102.5. You're having a fever." she rests the back of her palm against my cheek. God, her bony hand is freezing cold.

"Good job, Sherlock."

After hearing my sarcastic remark, she checks my temperature again with the back of her hand before slapping my cheeks softly. "You silly nanny."

I groan at the touch of her barely painful slap.

"Let's get you rested, girlie. You need rest and fluids." She grabs the dis-guarded glass and the pills she retrieves from the bathroom. She places them in either of my hands and waits as I place the pills in my mouth and take a long pull from the glass of water. I cringe as I swallow down the mixture of pills and water. She takes the nearly empty glass of water from my hand, before trying to put me back in a sleeping position.

"You're really not going to be comfortable in that. I'll grab you something more comfortable to change into." Elsa says, as she starts to dig through my drawers. Now I just wish I have cleaned my drawers earlier.

After a couple of moments, Elsa pulls out a pair of pajama bottoms and a plain white cotton t-shirt. She turns back towards me. "Do you need me to help you?" she asks.

I attempt to shake my head after I pull myself into a semi-sitting position. When the movement causes my head to ache with a renewed force and my basement bedroom to spin in quick circles, I peer at her sheepishly. Elsa sighs. She probably hopes that I won't need help but it's also a well known common sense that one should never deny a person this sick. Slowly, she walks forward and places her hands on my shoulders. I grin at her, with glassy eyes seeing two of Elsa. "An employer undressing her nanny. That sounds like a great headline and lawsuit." I joke, trying to break the tension in the room.

Elsa snorts. "The things that come out of your mouth – they're truly unexpected."

Fixing her fingers over the buttons on my shirt, she quickly undid them and removes the shirt from around my shoulders. She pulls my arms around her shoulders and helps me stand up. Then, I can feel my arms starting to freeze at the touch of her skin. I forcibly try to relax my arms around her shoulders. I don't want her to start noticing anything. Once again, I ignore the warmth that's crawling all over my body, from my feet to the back of my neck. I allow myself to take a glimpse at Elsa. She looks calm as if me standing this close to her does not bother her at all. Of course it shouldn't bother her and it shouldn't bother me too. It's not like she has a crush on me or anything. At that, the warmth ceases and all I can feel now is the ache building in the bottom of my heart.

Once she sees that I'm capable of standing up by myself without falling back down, she pulls the cotton t-shirt up and over my head. Once she has it tugged on, she looks down. "You can handle the pants, right?"

"Of course," I whisper.

Elsa nods and turns toward the door. "I'll be upstairs. I'll be back to check on you in a few hours. If you need anything before then, call me. I don't want you try to walk around by yourself."

"Okay," I mumble, as I start to tug on my belt.

I jerk myself awake. I had a dream where father was ice-skating. Weirdly, he wasn't skating with me, he was with my half-sister and that was enough to wake me up with tears running down my cheeks. I wipe the tears with the back of my hands, deciding that I'm old enough to quit crying over father. I've grown up so much since father left. I should've grown stronger too, shouldn't I? I look at the clock on the wall, it's 1 in the evening. I must have slept for five hours. I didn't meant to fall asleep for this long, but I was damn exhausted. I even turned on the radio to make me wake up from the noise at some point in case Rapunzel or Kristoff needed me. How had five hours passed without me knowing about it? Then it dawns on me that someone turned off the radio. But who?

Suddenly, I notice Elsa sitting on the wing-chair at the corner of my basement bedroom. She is sleeping with her head rested against the armrest, legs hugged against her chest, bun gone, just strands of platinum hairs covering half of her face. Her make up is still there, though it looks like she wiped off her lipstick. I snap out of my own mind when I realize that I've been staring at her.

I shiver spontaneously when the cold breeze from the air conditioner brushes over my skin. I'm still cold even though I have a blanket over me, I can only imagine how cold Elsa must be feeling right now. With all of the strength I have, I push myself off the bed, taking small steps on the floor. I fold the blanket and hold it in my arms, before marching slowly towards Elsa. The aspirin really helped. Even though my head still feels heavy and the sore throat hasn't recovered, I feel a little better since the pain in my stomach is gone.

I put the blanket on top of Elsa, covering her with the beige colored fur. Frankly, I'm still pissed at her for bossing me around and only stopping when I'm sick but I'm not anywhere near childish. I'm not going to lose my temper over her. Especially not after she has taken care of me, even if she was struggling at first. Elsa Arandelle might be cold, pompous and selfish but she lowered her ego earlier and took care of me. I don't care if the reason she is helping me is because she feels like she owes me something. At least she's trying.

Right, this is probably what Belle meant by I am being too nice to Elsa. But I can't help it. I can't help doing a lot of things to the Arandelles, apparently.

With my remaining strength, I settle into a thick sweater and lie back down on my bed when my head is starting to hurt again. I allow myself to doze off. A few more hours of nap won't hurt.

I wake up screaming in pain. I feel the bed sinking in when Elsa jumps towards me. I gag twice and then vomit, hands clutching at my sides as I heave again. Elsa holds back my hair and takes a couple of deep breaths, before she joins me on the throwing up bandwagon. After I am certain that I have control over my stomach, I slump back against the bed, sweat pouring down the sides of my face. I feel sicker than I did before. I can see Elsa's eyebrows knit together in concern as she steps forward, sidestepping the mess on the floor, and presses her hand against my forehead. I can feel my head grown warmer since the last time I woke up. She brushes my hair backwards. "Please, make it stop." I moan out. Tears starting to slip down my cheeks. I can't bare the pain, as my arm drapes over my stomach.

"I'm going to get you some more medicine and take your temperature again."

I just merely moan in answer as she disappears from the room. "Anna," she coaxes softly, as she shakes my arm.

If it was up to me, I would choose to ignore her and just let myself doze off. "What?" I groan, before cracking an eyelid open. "Mouth." She says softly and waits as I do as she says.

Placing the thermometer in my mouth, Elsa sits down on the edge of my bed and waits for the device to beep. Once it does, she removes the thermometer from my mouth and frowns. I feel like falling asleep again, so I close my eyes when suddenly Elsa elbows my arm. "I thought I was supposed to sleep." I groan, as I look at her with squinted eyes.

"You are, but I need you to take these. While you do that, I'm going to get you a cold compress to help with your fever."

"Okay," I sigh, as I take the pills that she offers, before chasing them down with water. I hope with everything in me that both, the pills and water, will stay put in my stomach. Another round of violent vomiting doesn't sound like something that will be fun.

Elsa stalks off to the bathroom. A few moments later, I hear her heels clicking against the floor. It sounds quiet again, for a few seconds. I can't care less what she is up to, not with the pain slowly killing me. "Shit!" I curse, as I jump up at the cold fabric Elsa has placed on my forehead.

Through my tired eyes, I can see Elsa biting her lip to keep herself from smiling. "I told you I was getting you a cold compress." I sigh in defeat, before wriggling my body back down onto the bed.

My eyes start to drift close as I feel Elsa turning to leave. "Elsa," I call out.

I can no longer hear her footsteps. She must've stopped walking. "Yeah?"

I crack my eyelid open again and stare at her. I knew, from the moment that she said she would take me home, that I would owe her big time. I hate what I am about to ask, I don't want her to risk getting sick anymore than she already has, but I also don't want to be alone. "Could you maybe sit with me. Just until I fall asleep?"

She stares at me for a moment. I try my best to hide the embarrassment written on my face. "Sure." She answers.

"Just let me clean that up first, otherwise you won't be the only one worried about throwing up again." Elsa wrinkles her nose.

I nod as she disappears again. She returns after a few moments with a small bucket full of water and a trash can. She sits the trash can down beside me. "Next time you have to throw up, aim for that, please." One side of my mouth pulls up in a lop-sided smile. "I'll try."

I watch as Elsa tries to clean up our mess, deciding that the least I can do is wait until she is done cleaning. Ten minutes later, I figure out that Elsa has given up. She has gotten most of it up, and it smells at least somewhat better in the room. Elsa goes back into the bathroom with the bucket. Stepping out of the bathroom with a floral spray, she sprays a generous amount of the strong-smelling spray around the room. She drops the can off on the dresser before crawling onto my bed, next to me. I feel her body relaxing and her breathing start to even out after a few moments. In a matter of minutes, Elsa is asleep and I find myself starting to drift off as well.

I wake up after I feel my shoulder is being nudged and the first thing I see is Consuela's face hovering over me. "Shit!"

I sit up straight abruptly before accidentally hitting the cook's head with my own.

"Ouch!" Consuela groans in pain before she plants a deadly stare towards me.

"Why would you do that?!" I raise my voice, already defending myself from getting blamed on by Consuela.

"You slept the whole day." Consuela points out, still rubbing her forehead.

She's right. It's 7 am now.

"Where's Elsa?" I ask, looking around the room for any sign of her but there is none except for the empty space next to me where she lied on last night.

Consuela folds her arms before she gives me _that_ look. "Since when do you call her Elsa? And what did you do to her?"

I sit up a little straighter. "What do you mean?"

"I've lived with her for 15 years and not once I see her storming into the kitchen asking me how to cure a fever. She never done that for anyone, not her father, not her siblings. At least since her mum died. So, what did you _do_ to her?" Consuela pulls a chair towards my bedside before she sits down.

"I – I don't know. Where's Elsa?"

Consuela tilts her head slightly, before taking the empty glass and tray from my side table. "She asked Gerda to pack her clothes. Seems like she's heading for a business trip." Consuela gives me a dirty look as she walks away.

"Thanks!" I say half shouting.

As soon as Consuela is out of my sight, I quickly find for my phone on my bed but of course it isn't there. My eyes make their ways towards my jeans hanged on the wall, so I abruptly pull the jeans and blindly search for my phone in the side pockets.

My fingers are shaky from the thought of sending Elsa this text but I don't know if this is the post-fever typing, but I feel like I have to text her _now_.

_Thanks for taking care of me – Anna_

I let out a long sigh. There, it's done and it's out there.

I toss my phone on the bed and decide to take a shower, before my phone beeps which naturally makes me jump on my bed and slides the screen with excitement.

_Are you feeling okay? – Elsa A._

I involuntarily make an excited inhuman squeal. _Play it cool, Anna._

_Not quite like I'm about to die. I did throw up again, but I made it into the trash can like you asked. - Anna_

I bit my lower lip, counting every second that goes by and now I regret protesting over buying Elsa donuts every morning. At least I used to have a reason to see her in the morning.


End file.
